Dragon Age: War of Gods
by Omnistar
Summary: It has been seven years since the disappearance of the Warden Queen, Silwen. After the victory at Denerim, a son was born to Alistair and Silwe. That same year, Morrigan's son was also born. Now both children are turning sixteen, and they will both be tied to a fate that could spell doom for Thedas should they fail. Rated T, for now. Please read and review. I hope you enjoy!
1. Prologue

Dragon Age: War of Gods

**A/N: Hey, everyone! After playing Dragon Age: Origins, which I immensely enjoyed, I decided to give writing some fan fiction for it a shot. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I know I am going to enjoy writing it. Please leave your reviews, I always appreciate feedback. Thank you and enjoy the story!**

Prologue

Of Fereldan and the House of Theirin

_Some doors are better left unopened_

_ Some secrets are better left unfound._

_ Some words should be left silent,_

_ And their mutterings be left underground._

_ But a darkness is coming for us all,_

_ And Death shall ride upon dark wings_

_ But the Maker shall put His sword in the hand of children_

_ And the Song of His Light shall ring._

There is an old legend that has been sung for ages: the legend of the Grey Wardens. A legend that has been spread far and wide as the story of the greatest heroes to walk this earth. From the time that they go through the Joining, to the time they disappear into the long and dark Deep Roads, they are renowned from protecting the world from true evil.

The evil of the Blight has tried to destroy the world five times, and five times that evil has been stopped by the Wardens. The last time, the Blight was stopped before it could truly begin by two Grey Wardens, King Alistair and his Elven queen, Silwen, who was a mage of the Circle for a great number of years. For ten years, Alistair and Silwen brought relative peace to Fereldan, though the world was falling apart around the rest of the kingdom.

Civil wars and many struggles arose within the neighbors of Fereldan, and even the Circle of Magi had rebelled against the Chantry. The only Circle that had arisen against the rest of the continent of Thedas was in Fereldan, which was given autonomy by King Alistair at the urging of his beautiful bride. Though the Chantry desired to bring the Fereldan Circle back under its influence, their attempts to hold power there were almost utterly destroyed, save for those mages who had desire to worship the Maker as they saw fit. Yet, the relations between the Circle and the Chantry became stronger, and great friendship did grow between the two as the years went on.

It became the policy, after much consideration, of the Circle of Fereldan that mages could leave the Circle when they were appropriately trained to control their magic, with a solemn oath taken to not use the forbidden arts of magic. With this oath taken, a mage would then take with him a Templar whom he had grown up with and considered a friend and companion. They would swear, then, to protect each other from evil from the Fade, should demons come through. Thus was forged a great alliance between magic and steel, for those who freely left the Circle.

However, the Templars themselves were not part of the Circle Tower. Instead, Templars were given the Calenhad Docks, which they turned into a thriving port settlement that prospered heavily from trade with Redcliffe. From the docks, the Templars and mages were able to rebuild the ancient bridge of the Tower of Magi. From this, the relations between the Circle and Dwarves became one of the greatest friendships Fereldan ever saw. The next greatest friendship for the Circle was with the Elves, with whom the Warden Queen was able to mend the hurts between Men and Elves. The Elves were granted access to the library of the Circle, and they were released from bondage in Fereldan. The Brecilian Forest was given to the Elves for all time, and there was peace between Elves and Men.

So it was, Fereldan became more united under the banner of Alistair and his Elven queen than ever there was before. Yet, with joy that Fereldan enjoyed in its prosperity, there was also sorrow. Silwen, who slew the Archdemon and ended the Fifth Blight, was declared barren after the birth of their child, a son named Eldasar, who the Chantry declared to be a miracle, for he was conceived before the slaying of the Archdemon. And though Silwen wept because she could not give Alistair a larger family, the boy was strong at a young age. When he was five, he exhibited strong signs of powerful magic. Because of this, Alistair and Silwen sent Eldasar to the Circle to be trained. As a promise to the throne to repay the debts of autonomy, the Circle promised to return Eldasar to the throne when he passed his Harrowing.

From an early age, Eldasar went to and fro between the Circle Tower and the Calenhad Docks, learning the arts of magic, the sword, and diplomacy. He proved himself a strong student in all suits, and he showed great wisdom, astonishing all those who heard his speech. Some even said the Eldasar could convince a dragon to do all he asked. To those who didn't know him, he was called Prince Eldasar, but to those who did, he was jokingly called Half-Elven. He would laugh when called such a name, claiming that it was honor to be the joined halves of the Warden royals that slew the Archdemon. For many long years, he stayed in the Tower, growing stonger. However, it was nearing his sixteenth year. He was soon going to come of age. It was almost time to return home.

Many miles away, however, in the city of Val Royeaux, the capital of Orlais, there was another child the same age as Eldasar by the name of Romian. Romian also had the gift of magic within him, but he knew nothing else but his mother, who had hidden him from the rest of the world in plain sight. Romian had always had many questions about his life, but his mother always refused to answer, claiming that "the time was not yet right." For five long years, before the child had come to Val Royeaux, he and his mother lived in solitude, avoiding the rest of humanity except on special occasions of desired aid.

However, his mother would not allow the two of them to stay in one place for long, though he was young enough that he did not understand. When he came to Val Royeaux, his mother started to teach him magic in secret. The boy was strong his craft. There were times when he believed that he could surpass his mother in her magic. However, she would laugh when he claimed to the stronger of the two, saying that he "still had much to learn." His mother's lack of praise angered him, but he was always further compelled to earn her approval. "Power is all that has meaning," she would say, and he took that philosophy to a key. Though he would hate to admit it, his mother made him stronger by that philosophy. For many long years, he stayed hidden in his mother's care, furthering his powers. However, it was nearing his sixteenth year. He was soon going to come of age. It was almost time to leave his mother. It was almost time to leave Morrigan.


	2. Chapter 1

Dragon Age: War of Gods

**Hey, everyone! Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Thanks for the reviews. It goes without saying that I do not own any part of the Dragon Age franchise. If I did, I would actually like to write for them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Please read and review!**

Chapter One

The Harrowing of Eldasar and the King's Arrival

The leaves were colored gold and red as Alistair and his six knights rode their horses to the Tower Circle at Lake Calenhad. He thought dearly of the beauty of the autumn he shared with his even more beautiful wife, Silwen. Where had she disappeared to? He had that question many time before, and Maker knew he would ask the same question many times again before he either saw the end of his life or the face of his wife again, if she was alive. Whichever came first. She had written him and their son a letter before she disappeared. The letter to Alistair was cryptic, claiming that there were dark dreams that she had; that she had sensed an evil looming somewhere that had to be investigated.

Alistair couldn't lie, he felt something he had not felt since the Blight. It felt like it was both far off and yet next to him at the same time. It didn't feel like Darkspawn, but something like he and Silwen had felt when it came to the Archdemon. It was strange, though, but something in his mind told him that it had to do with a certain witch that he knew he shouldn't be thinking about. Morrigan. That was a name he wanted to forget. He had hoped she was out of his life, though he did suppose he owed the lives of him and Silwen to Morrigan. Dark memories entered his mind of that night he spent with her. Though, Silwen did suggest he do it, and Morrigan was right when she said it wasn't unenjoyable.

Don't follow her, she said, and Alistair almost wished Silwen didn't follow Morrigan. However, Alistair at least knew in his heart that the boy would be safe under Morrigan's care. If anyone could protect the boy, she could. But Alistair couldn't help but wonder if it would have been better had he refused to go along with Morrigan's plan. A child with the spirit of an Old God, the sworn enemy of the Maker, inside him couldn't lead to any good. Yet, Morrigan had sworn that she would not let the child come to evil. Morrigan was a liar, no doubt, and she certainly played for her own agenda, but Alistair didn't believe she was evil. At least, he hoped Morrigan wasn't evil.

It was conceivable that, as far as Alistair was concerned, the child could force Darkspawn to his will. If that was true, Alistair shuddered at the thought of the child becoming the leader of the next Blight. However, it was Morrigan's claim that the spirit of the Old God would be contained, not being able to control the boy through corruption. However, that didn't mean the boy might not go through corruption. Yet, Morrigan claimed that the blood of a Grey Warden could completely quell the spirit of the Old God, keeping it from creating another Blight. Alistair could only say that he had to take the words of Morrigan by faith, as foolish as it seemed.

Yet, between Silwen and Lelianna, faith had become an extremely important resource to him. He had faith that his wife was alive, though all had claimed she was dead. He had faith his son, Eldasar, would pass his Harrowing, though he knew that demons would be drawn to Eldasar like a moth was drawn to light. Most importantly, he had to have faith that he was doing well in eyes of the Maker to all of Fereldan. He felt he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and there was nothing he could do about it. Yet, it was by some strength of the Maker that Alistair had endured. Lelianna had seen to that. For some reason, he had felt that Lelianna's faith that the Maker had not truly left the world was more comforting to him than anything he felt for a long time. He thought he was a broken man when Silwen disappeared without a trace, but Lelianna helped him as much as she could.

About three years after the disappearance of Silwen, much against Alistair's wishes, he was forced to remarry. With many who claimed that she was dead, along with the fact that she was barren, and the idea that Eldasar might not survive the Harrowing, Alistair had no real choice if he wanted to make sure his bloodline endured. To the surprise of many, Alistair took Lelianna as his new bride, and for several reasons. Though, many of those reasons were whispered gossip concerning an affair between Queen Silwen and the lovely Lelianna that even included King Alistair at times. In the time between the marriage between Alistair and Lelianna and right now as Alistair was thinking of all these things, Lelianna bore twin daughters and a son. Of course, the children of Lelianna were loved more by many of the peoples of Fereldan than Eldasar. The Chantry struggled with the idea of Fereldan's future king being a mage.

"_Magic is meant to serve man and never to rule over him,"_ the Chantry said.

Alistair and Silwen argued many times that a king is a servant to his people, but the Chantry often ignored that argument. This, however, was what started the king and queen's movement to free the Circle of Magi. And, for the most part, the movement was quite successful. The Templars and mages became friends fast friends with freedom the Circle acquired, but the Chantry still grumbled. Under the influence of Queen Lelianna, however, the Fereldan's Chantry came to understand and even favor Alistair's move to free the Circle. However, the idea of a king mage still bothered many. However, Alistair imposed the idea that the friendship between the Templars and mages should be made so they could travel together and serve and protect each other should a mage ever choose to leave the Circle. This friendship, however, was strained by the Mage-Templar War that consumed the rest of Thedas. While there was peace between the Circle and Chantry of Fereldan, distrust of the Circle by the Chantry was always obvious. If it weren't for Lelianna, Alistair was certain that the Chantry would have led a war against the Circle and kill his son.

"_Thank the Maker for mercies big and small,"_ Alistair thought to himself as he began to see the light of the sun reflecting off of the water of Lake Calenhad.

In the distance he saw the tall Tower on a lone island in the middle of the lake connected by a bridge. Its shadow was facing outward towards the king and his company. It wasn't that the Tower looked evil, but it at times could look eerie if the light struck it right. Though, memories of demons and blood mages battling against him and Silwen entered his mind as he saw it. Yet the Tower was a force for good, and Alistair knew it. And inside the Tower were mages that would help his son be ready for the Harrowing as much as possible. He knew, though, that Eldasar would be ready. Eldasar had to ready. Perhaps that legendary dragon's blood in him would help in the Fade. Eldasar was certainly an accomplished swordsman from what Alistair had heard from the Templars.

The Circle was much more secretive on Eldasar's training. Though, Alistair knew that Eldasar's cross of magic and steel was a result of the tome that Silwen sent with him. What was it called? _Lore of the Arcane Warrior?_ At any rate, the tome was prized within the Circle as the resurrection of ancient Elven lore and several copies were made. However, the original tome stayed within Denerim along with much of the other original books Silwen had written. Yet, the Circle still prized the magical lore that Silwen had gifted to them, naming her a savior of lost knowledge. But still, Silwen disappeared, and as much as Alistair wanted believe she was still alive, Eldasar was all he had of her. That, and the two letters Alistair had from her. In the end, the letter to Alistair sent Silwen's love for her dear Grey Warden husband. Alistair felt like crying every time he read her final words to him. Though, that would not be the kingly thing to do in front of his subjects. Instead, he would read the letter alone, sometimes for hours, with only Lelianna to comfort him. The first time she comforted him, he knew he would come to love Lelianna, but not like he loved Silwen. That was deeper love that he could not explain fully to anyone, but Lelianna was understanding, for she loved Silwen too.

The letter to Eldasar was even stranger, for Alistair had learned from his son that the letter contained with it a ring made of rosewood and that Eldasar could sense things when he had the ring on. From time to time Eldasar could feel his mother. At other times Eldasar claimed he could feel another woman. Alistair had a pretty good feeling of who the other woman was, but as for sensing Eldasar sensing his mother Alistair didn't know what to think. The ring was only meant for Morrigan to sense the wearer. At least that is what Silwen told him, at any rate. Perhaps Silwen made is so that she could also sense the presence of her son, Alistair did not know. However, that gave him hope that Silwen was still alive, despite the claims that she was dead. However, even though he had hope, he was still forced to remarry. And what better than the woman that both he and his wife deeply cared for?

"You're majesty," a voice called out to Alistair, snapping him out of his though, "We are nearing the Circle Tower. Shall I signal our arrival?"

"I thought the plan was to sneak in," Alistair replied with a smile, "but they might as well know whose coming."

The gates of the Tower Circle were large and magnificent to behold, like unto the gate of Denerim, but older and far more majestic to behold. Upon the doors were images of Men and Elves keeping a silent vigil over the Tower. In the center of the door, however, was a crown that had the image of a dragon upon it. Alistair stared at the image of the crown, considering his own blood for a moment. He was of the ancient blood of dragons. He had a duty to guard his people. He had a duty to guard his family. He had a duty to defeat the evils that might threaten the world. Around the very edge of the door were Templar runes, protecting the Tower door from magic itself.

"Sir Harold," Alistair called, "sound our arrival."

Sir Harold drew his horn to his lips and sounded his horn with a mighty blow. The horn echoed loudly across the lake as Alistair and his company crossed the bridge. As the blast of the horn reached the Tower the gates were almost instantly opened to the King of Fereldan. Out of the Tower came a rather familiar Templar, though he seemed quite old now. He simply smiled and saluted Alistair and his knights as they approached.

"Hail Alistair, the King of Fereldan," the Templar shouted joyously, "Long may you live in the Light of the Maker!"

"Hail Sir Greagoir, commander the Templar guard of Tower Circle," Alistair called back, "Long may you live in the Light of the Maker!"

"I think I would rather that the Maker gather me to His side," Greagoir said with a smile, "I'm getting too old for this damn job."

"And may he reward you highly for your services in this 'damn job' of yours," Alistair laughed, "Has my son entered the Harrowing yet?"

"The boy insisted on waiting for you, you majesty," Greagoir answered with a smile, "I swear, he would enter the Fade to search for the Maker Himself if he thought it would make you happy."

"Well then we best make sure he isn't disappointed in his old man," Alistair laughed, "But I wish to talk to my son in private before he enters his test."

"Your majesty, I believe your son would have forced us to let him talk to you anyway," Greagoir said, "That or turn us all into toads. He is a clever one. I think he may have the quick temperament of his mother."

"And I think she would have turned you into a toad just for saying that," Alistair laughed before he drew a sad smile, "But, enough jokes. I came for my son. And whether it be for the last time or not is in the hands of the Maker."

Greagoir nodded solemnly as he asked Alistair to follow him. The Tower had been greatly healed from when it was invaded by demons and blood mages. In fact, the Tower had seemed to be stronger as far as Alistair was concerned. He smiled once again as memories of he and Silwen fighting evil together flooded his mind. He remembered their first kiss. He remembered the first night they shared a tent together. He even remembered that one time he, Silwen, and Lelianna shared a cabin with Isabella, though that memory was one that Lelianna was fond of bringing up when he and Lelianna were alone together. But the one memory that flooded his mind the most was when Silwen told him that she was pregnant. Alistair couldn't help but unleash his sheer joy at Silwen's news. His marriage to her and the announcement of her pregnancy were his fondest memories. And for those memories, he had a special love for his son, Eldasar Half-Elven.

The first thing Alistair noticed when he walked into the Apprentice Quarters was a young man, no more than sixteen years of age. The boy had piercing blue eyes and brownish-red hair that wasn't too terribly long. He also some facial hair that he kept trimmed enough to look good, but otherwise he had an excellent goatee. His robes were long, colored grey with red endings. He was sitting at a normal wooden desk with a quill in hand, concentrating hardly at whatever it was he was writing. Alistair smile to himself when he saw the boy, hard at his work.

"I do believe people usually look up when they hear a door open," Alistair called out to the boy with a smile, "or did these damn sixth sense mages already deprive you of hearing?"

The boy looked up from his study, clearly registering quickly what was said to him. His lips quickly formed a smile as his eyes intensely brightened. He got up and ran over to Alistair for an embrace. Alistair quickly captured his son in his arms and kissed his head. The boy was his height, which Alistair was at pleased with. A tall prince was always good for morale when it came to the battlefield.

"Father!" Eldasar cried happily, "You came, and at good timing too. Not quite as late now as you were to the Archdemon, eh?"

"Maker's breath!" Alistair remarked as he released Eldasar from the embrace, "I wish I had never told you about that! You definitely developed your mother's tongue."

"And your sense of humor," Eldasar replied happily, "Though I guess you and I were both raised well enough by dogs to comment like fools."

"Easy boy," Alistair laughed, "You may be my son, but I'm still your king."

"And I have eagerly looked forward to the arrival of my king," Eldasar said, "I am ready to make you proud."

"You already have made me more proud than I could possibly describe," Alistair said with a smile, "If your mother were here…."

"I know, dad," Eldasar said sadly, "I miss her too. But I can still make her proud from afar. If a cross between the blood of an Elf, Human, a Grey Warden, mage, a dragon, and royalty can't survive the Harrowing, I don't know what will."

"Easy, son," Alistair said, "The last thing you want to be is cocky. You may well survive the Harrowing but that doesn't mean your limits won't be tested to the utmost degree. From what I learned from your mother you will die if you fail. I can't lose you too."

"You won't lose me, dad," Eldasar replied, "I am confident in myself. Besides, from what mom told me in her letter, the Harrowing is a test of more than ability. I must always stay on guard, and I plan on doing just that."

"Your mother spoke of the Harrowing in her letter?" Alistair asked with surprise.

"Not very much," Eldasar said quietly, "All she was that she told that to 'keep her wits about her. True tests never end.'"

"If that is what she said, then it is probably true," Alistair said, "Whatever it is, you need to be keep your mind focused."

"If the Harrowing is what I think it is, then I would heavily agree," Eldasar said with some thought, "I think it may have to do with the Fade."

"What makes you think that?" Alistair asked.

"Well," Eldasar started, "the Fade is the only place that is discussed in the Circle that apprentices never go to except for in dreams, as all Men, Elves, and Qunari do. Mainly because mages will claim that apprentices are not quite ready to deal with the effects of the Fade."

"That is a reasonable guess," Alistair said, "as the main job of the Templars is to kill maleficarum and demon possessed mages, and the Fade is where mages can become corrupted or possessed. Being in the Fade myself has taught me a little bit about it."

"You have been in the Fade?" Eldasar asked in awe.

"Yes, once" Alistair said, "with your mother. She and I slew a Sloth Demon together. One of our more difficult challenges."

"That does sound challenging," Eldasar said thoughtfully as he played with his mother's ring.

"Do you feel her right now?" Alistair asked when he saw what his son was doing.

"I feel something," Eldasar said, "but it isn't mother. I talk with her in my dreams. I know she is proud of me. Nor do I feel the other woman, but I feel someone else at times. Sometimes I feel as if I have somehow connected with him. And just when I think I can see him, the connection is lost."

"Him?" Alistair asked.

"Yes," Eldasar said, "a 'him.' And a powerful 'him' if he is not connected to the ring. Yet, I still feel connected to him, and I always feel as if I should know who he is."

Alistair didn't ask, but if it had anything to do with Morrigan then Alistair knew exactly who 'he' was, and it unsettled him. The boy was never supposed to have any claim to the throne. Morrigan swore to it. But if Morrigan had plans to usurp the throne, Alistair did not know what to do. Alistair did not mention, however, that he too felt a strange connection too seemed to be a boy. At nights when he was with Lelianna he would see a boy stare at him. And that was all the boy would do: simply stare. He would never talk. Alistair was unnerved by the stare, for it always seemed the boy would search the depths of his soul. Every once in a while the boy would smile mysteriously at Alistair, but that is all that would truly happen between the two.

"Perhaps it is nothing," Alistair said finally, "but I think you should focus your mind on your test."

"That sounds like a wise idea," Eldasar said with a smile, "I shall return to you. You have my word."

"And I shall hold you to that word," Alistair laughed as he drew his son into a hug, "Farewell, Eldasar."

"Farwell, father," Eldasar, "I shall see you again soon."

From there, Greagoir took Eldasar Half-Elven up to the Harrowing chamber. Eldasar had only at times seen the second level of the Circle Tower, but never beyond. The Tower, as he expected, was even more beautiful and filled with wonder the higher one went. There were tapestries of knights and kings, Templars and mages, and of all the races that were known to Thedas. Eldasar even saw tapestries of dragons, Darkspawn, and of the great griffons, creatures that were heavily associated with the order his parents once belonged to. As he drew nearer to the Harrowing chamber he could feel things whispering to him, telling him to allow him to be taken. He could feel evil even before he knew what the evil was. It was around him, yet beyond him. At the same time, however, he felt a comfort, as if a hand were laid upon him to calm his spirit. Eldasar took a deep breath as he entered the Harrowing chamber. In the center of the chamber he saw a strange pedestal covered in ruin and lyrium crystals with First Enchanter Irving next to the pedestal. He and Greagoir slowly walked up next to Irving, who had a proud smile on his face. He looked at Greagoir before giving him a slight nod.

"So it has been said to your mother and the many before you," Greagoir started, turning to Eldasar, "_'Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him.'_ Thus spoke the Prophetess, Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium. Your magic is a gift, but it is also a curse in the eyes of the Maker. The Chantry would have it so you would not leave the Circle, forsaking all claims to the kingship that is your father's legacy. However, because of the work of your mother and father, the Chantry has decreed that should you choose to retain your birthright or leave the Circle for any reason after succeeding at your Harrowing, you are required to take with you a Templar. If that Templar believes that you are becoming a maleficarum, he has it within his right to act out the duties of the Chantry and slay you for crimes against the Maker and His children. Do you understand these terms?"

"I do," Eldasar said.

"This is lyrium," Irving said, pointing to the pedestal, "It is the source of all magic in the world as well as the source of our own power. Though we do not necessarily need to use lyrium to use magic, it does allow us to prolong our strength. It is also our strongest access into the Fade. This power inside of you is something you need to learn how to control to your fullest extent, in both the physical and dream worlds. You are ready, child. It must be the old legends of dragon blood running through your veins that have allowed you to enter this chamber so young. I remember you mother coming through here, and she wasn't much older than you. Only by four years, if I remember correctly. You have much to live up to, lad, but I am sure you will live up to the reputation."

"You have learned much, and if you have come far, young one," Greagoir said, "You are definitely ready for the challenge ahead. However, if we feel we must do our duty, we will. I hope and pray to the Maker we do not have to perform that duty."

Eldasar looked at the two aged men and smiled and nodded. He took a deep breath and walked towards the blue and black pedestal. He could hear the voices in his mind growing louder as he approached the lyrium, telling him to come. Telling him to die. He could feel his blood growing warmer as he stretched out to touch the cold lyrium, and then everything went black.

When Eldasar came to he stood up and saw a world with green sky. He felt a sudden urge of both calmness and uneasiness, but the unease won out over the calmness. He knew then that he was in the Fade. But where in the Fade was he? When he got up he saw he was on the edge of a great island overlooking many lesser islands around it. When he turned around he saw great dark walls before him, and the walls seemed as if they were crying an even darker blood. Before him was a giant gate that also wept of blood, but the gates were open. In front of the gate was an old man. The old man leaned on a wooden staff which had an eight-pointed star as its head. The old man simply stared and smiled warmly at Eldasar.

"Where am I?" Eldasar asked.

"That depends," the old man replied, "You could be in a dream, you could be in reality, or you could be insane. It doesn't truly matter which. All that matters is what you believe."

"And what is it that you think I believe in?" Eldasar asked again.

"That is for you to decide," the old man said, "However, I suggest you believe in that which will help you the most."

"And what will help me?" Eldasar asked.

"You ask what you already know the answer to, child!" the old man laughed warmly, "Did not those mages teach you about this place? I thought they had!"

"And how do you know what I have been taught?" Eldasar retorted.

"I am old, child, not blind," the old man replied, "Though I suppose I might as well be, considering what has been said. Yet, I am not as blind as everyone says."

"And what do they say?" Eldasar asked, taken aback, "Who are you?"

"They say many things," the old man replied, "As for who I am, I have many names, but let's just say I am the Watcher here. I watch the gate, as you can tell. As far as I can tell, you are wrong side of the Fade."

"I didn't know there was a wrong side to the Fade," Eldasar said, "I thought it was just a dream realm."

"And it is as much a dream realm as it is reality," the old man said with a smile, "The question is, will you allow the dream realm to alter the your sense of reality, or will you let your sense of reality alter the dream realm? The demon who seeks you cannot find you here, as his reality cannot reach to this part of the Fade, but I am the Watcher, I can reach him easily. You are here because you are meant to be here, because I wished you here. I can easily wish the demon here too, or I can send you to the demon who hunts you. He knows you are in the Fade, but he does not know where in the Fade. He can look all he likes, but he shall not find you."

"But I have to defeat the demon to pass my test," Eldasar said.

"And I could easily send you back to the physical world and you will never have to face him," the old man said, "But if truly wish to test you strength, I shall bring him here. The demon cannot pass through the gates as long as I defend them, nor could any creature."

"Very well, sir," Eldasar said, "I will face the creature."

"Maker's blessings upon you, lad," the old man said with a smile and nod.

"And upon you, sir," Eldasar responded with a smile.

The old man lifted his staff aloft and a majestic white light poured from the star upon his staff. Eldasar felt the warm light bathe around him as the form of a Terror Demon appeared before the old man and Eldasar. The Terror Demon looked around for a moment, confused as to where he was, but when he saw the old man, he quickly fell to the ground in a great cry and hiss.

"What do you want with me, Watcher?" the demon hissed hostilely, "Have you summoned me here to send me to the far reaches of the abyss where the damned are to walk forever?"

"If it is to the abyss you must go, then to the abyss you must go," the old man said, "but today it shall not be me that will strike you down. Should the Maker will it, it shall be this boy who shall strike you down."

"And how nice it is of you is it to bring me to my prey, Watcher," the demon replied, noticing the young mage, "Though I am surprised he is here. Is he of the blood of the Tevinter Imperium that he should walk here freely as you allowed the magisters to walk here so long ago? Are you so powerless that you let evil walk as freely now as you did then?"

"And yet you still fear me now as you did then!" the old man laughed, "All I do is in the Maker's name, and it is the Maker that shall destroy you at a time of his choosing. Indeed, all evil shall be destroyed at a time of his choosing. Evil does not go unchecked as you would have the mortal realm believe, but it is seen at every moment of every day. Be wary then, I say to you, for you have no true power against the Light."

"We shall see, Watcher," the demon hissed and turned towards Eldasar, "Come. Let us see if your champion is as strong as you believe him to be."

The Terror Demon screamed in wrath as he lunged forward at the young prince of Fereldan. Eldasar quickly shouted an incantation and a light blue field spread around him in defense. The demon was pushed back by the powerful shield and flung fifty feet away from Eldasar. The demon hissed at the boy and his eyes glowed red as he summoned the boulders of the earth around him. The demon then flung the boulders at Eldarsar, but Eldasar stretched forth his hand and lighting smote the boulders into sand and pebbles. The demon hissed at the boy when he saw his attack was destroyed and then raised his arms cried out into the heavens. When Eldasar blinked he saw five Terror Demons, all wrathful and with eyes filled with hatred.

"I shall have you, body and soul," they all said to Eldasar.

"You will have to kill me first," Eldasar cried as he summoned a fireball to smite the demons.

The demons quickly moved out of the way and charged at Eldasar, screaming in furry. But Eldasar summoned forth his remaining strength as the demons reached for him and his body erupted in flame. All five demons were struck by the force of energy and were thrown back. As they each struck the ground four of the demons disappeared. The demon screamed at him in anger, but he smiled when he saw Eldasar's heavy breathing and the gash across his torso as the boy fell to knees.

"Do you see, Watcher?" the demon cried in triumph, "Do you see how weak the mortal is? Does your champion have the strength to defeat me? Do you see how the darkness is all consuming? You have lost!"

"You are right, demon," the old man said with a smile, "I see him. I see his weakness. I see that he does not have the strength to defeat you. But you do not know that even the smallest of hope is enough light to cause the darkness to flee before it. Behold! It is not he who has lost, nor is it he who has won, but it is the Maker who has won and you who has lost!"

And suddenly Eldasar felt a light run through his body that felt like the light that came from the staff of the Watcher, and he felt his strength return anew as a sword of white light appeared in his hand. The hilt of the sword, much like the staff of the Watcher had the symbol the eight-pointed star upon it.

"But you aren't allowed to interfere!" the demon cried in terror.

"Nor am I," the old man replied with a smile, "The Maker chooses to act through whomever he wills at whatever time he wills it."

The demon screamed once again and tried to flank Eldasar, once again heavily wounding the boy by creating another gash across his chest. But as the demon struck Eldasar, he also struck the demon with his sword. The demon released horrendous screams as it died slowly from the sword piercing through his body. However, Eldasar also sank to his knees as he felt the darkness spread over his body. Before he collapsed, he felt hands of another upon his shoulders. He looked up with his remaining strength to see the old man smiling down at him.

"Peace, my child," the old man said, "The Maker is not done with you yet. Rest for a while, and recover from your wounds. I shall keep you safe under my watch. We shall meet again, you and I. Let your spirit heal, and your mind feel peace, for you have labored long. But speak not of our meeting to anyone. Know that I am watching you, and that the world has never been forsaken for the sake of the faithful."

And with that Eldasar closed his eyes and knew no more. And even in his dreamless sleep he felt the old man's final words to him, and Eldasar felt peace. And with peace came hope.


	3. Chapter 2

Dragon Age: War of Gods

**Hello everyone! Thank you so much for you kind reviews and support of this story. You make all of this possible. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and please review! I enjoy your feedback and input!**

Chapter 2

Conspiracies in the Dark and the Dragon's Flight

The sun was bright in the city of Val Royeaux, and as usual the city was bursting with commerce as the inhabitants of the city prepared for the coming winter. Fall was still early upon them, but it would soon be over. However, Orlais was an empire that was always ripe with trade, and today was no exception to the sound of people chattering away and performing their daily tasks. There were merchants from all over Thedas that would come to sell their wares in Val Royeaux. Furs from Fereldan, scrolls and enchanted items from Tevinter, and even Orlesian wine. However, most importantly was the grand amount of food that Orlais had within its borders. It was said that all the world could go through an unholy famine, but Orlais would have enough food left over to outlast everyone. Though, in truth, as strong as Orlais was culturally and economically, it still felt the military sting of the Fereldan Rebellion. However, Orlais still had the strength to defend itself if ever there was an attack, and with the long years that had passed since the end of the Fereldan Rebellion Orlais began to feel its great strength again.

Romian was one such of those that would walk the streets of Orlais while the city was busy of those that needed supply. However, Romian did not need supplies. With his mother as the arcane advisor to Empress Celene, Romian was well provided for, but he had a great urge to leave the city and travel where he willed. However with the Orlesian Civil War going on, there was little he could do about leaving. Still, he was sure he could escape the dreariness of having to see damn shoes all day. Romian sighed a little. Life in Val Royeaux was boring when all you could do is be a prisoner in a free city. He had desire to leave and discover the wide world. He cursed his mother for being so secluded in this state of servitude, even if they both lived like royalty. Today, like every other day, he would go to sit on a small stone wall where he would study the rats of the city. They were always interesting creatures to him. Always most useful for… experiments.

The rats learned to fear him, just as others should learn to fear him. Some days he got sick and tired of listening to the ravings of people about the gossip of the city. So, Romian would study the rats, forcing them to his will. He would sit for hours, telepathically commanding the rat to do as he pleased. But he felt like he could do so much more. Whenever he got tired of the beast he would end its suffering by muttering an incantation and bursting it into flames. Sad to kill such a fine specimen, but Romian certainly didn't want pestilence running around the city. On the other hand, if it could end this war faster….

Romian shook his head. It was an amusing thought, but there were already whispers about his mother. And if there are whispers about his mother, there were most certainly whispers about him. Everything seemed so uncertain, but that was how things have always been for as long as Romian could remember. He remembered a time, though it was extremely short, when he and his mother were on the run. He didn't know why, but he always had questions. And those questions were always refused an answer by his mother. That she was always hiding things was obvious. A blind and deaf man would know that. What she hid, well, Romian knew he wouldn't be able to find out. Morrigan was not known to hand out secrets. And Romian knew he couldn't get her to drink so she would talk. On rare occasions his mother his mother would drink wine, but it was only one small glass. However, on occasion, when he and his mother practiced magic together, he could catch a glimpse of her mind. And every time he would see the same thing: two griffons with swords in their hands and golden crowns on their heads and light all around them.

The griffons always through him off his trail, for such creatures were extinct, though he knew that the Grey Wardens held a large association to the griffon from his history lessons. He would often think about the Heroes of Fereldan who stopped the Fifth Blight, but his mother did not appear in the story of what he heard. All he truly heard of were the two heroes, Queen Lelianna, and sometimes the leaders of the armies of Fereldan. And yet, he could feel as if he knew the story already deep within him. He heard things at times, voices speaking to him, and he listened to them, believing that his connection to the Fade allowed him to hear all the spirits there. However, even though Romian head these things, he did not understand. However, as time wore on, he learned to control the voices. But there were times when he heard the voices and he could not ignore them, for their screams were terrible to behold.

Romian sighed and turned around to head back to the royal palace. No doubt he could feel his mother and her desire to see him again. Time for more practice of his magical abilities, as always, during the evening. As he got off the stone wall he saw an old man staring at him with his head cocked curiously and his eyes narrowed. He had blue eyes, which reflected clearly in them Romian with his dark hair and yellow eyes. Romian had his mother's eyes. The old man had long silvery hair, and wore long robes. He had a staff in his hand that had an eight-pointed star that crowned its head. The old man smiled at Romian as the boy stared back at old man. But, in the moment that Romian blinked, the old man was simply gone. Had he been imagining the old man? Romian shook his head again. Perhaps he had been spending too much time with his mother. And what a true thought that was! He knew in the back of his mind that his mother saw him from afar. She was strong, and he knew only a fool would test her strength, but Romian always felt that he was stronger, though he may be young and not fully attuned to his abilities.

As he headed back to back to the keep, though he didn't know why, he felt as if he was being watched. Whether it be by his mother, the old man, or something else, he wasn't sure, but the uneasiness gnawed at him like a dog gnaws at a bone. He looked over his shoulder for a moment, but no one was there. He shook his head, but something still felt… off. He couldn't explain it. Perhaps seeking the council of his mother may help, it was always a good choice, and Romian never doubted the wisdom of Morrigan. Sometimes seeking the help of others was the best path. His mother taught him that long ago. However, even when seeking another's help, it was wisest to only trust one's self. The air was cool and pleasant as Romian thought to himself of all these things. Fall was a beautiful time of year, and Romian loved it the most. It was the time when he would be in his greatest mediation.

"Halt, who goes there?" A guard inquired as Romian approached the keep's gate.

"Romian, son of Morrigan," Romian replied, "Chief advisor of Empress Celene in the arcane arts."

"And what is the password, son of Morrigan?" the guard asked.

"Sword of Andraste, Maker's justice," Romian answered.

The guard nodded as he signaled the gates to open. Romian passed through great gates of Val Royeaux's great keep. Truly the city was a work of art, but the keep was a work of legend. Its walls were high and its battlements were strong. If anything, Orlais had some of the strongest defenses in all of Thedas, its wealth was poured into its walls as much as its art. Romian quickly moved through the courtyard of the keep and entered the great hall and went straight to his chambers, keeping an eye out for his mother, who undoubtedly was already aware of his presence. Whether or not the Empress still remained at court, Romian did not know. All he knew was that the Empress was rather busy today. There were many who came to file a grievance, or pay tribute, or even make a simple request. Yes, the Empress was quite busy today. And if the Empress was busy, then surely Morrigan was busy as well.

"And just what have you been up to?" Romian heard as he entered his chambers.

"Mother," Romian said slowly as he turned around to meet her, "how good of you to check on me. I have been what I am always up to, looking around the city. Though, I suppose you already knew that."

"I know only what I can see," Morrigan replied, "and for a moment you were hidden from me. Have you been practicing your art on your own?"

"I practice whenever I can," Romain said, "but I am afraid I have not found the ability to hide from you. Perhaps you are growing old."

"Perhaps," Morrigan said with a laugh, "but I am not yet so old that I cannot remember magic. But it troubles me that you were hidden from my sight for even a moment. Yet, I will remember our exchange while I have you scrub the castle floors."

"And I will remember the punishment you gave me ever so fondly," Romian said sarcastically.

"Good," Morrigan said, "Maybe now you will remember to stay inside the keep's walls from now on. Though I know you have made friends with the rats."

"And what wonderful friends they are, mother," Romian said, "I have grown rather fond of them."

"Perhaps I should turn you into one," Morrigan said, "You do seem to like them a lot."

"What would you ever do without me, mother?" Romian laughed, "I would not be able to entertain you as highly if I were a rat!"

"Perhaps you should pay better attention to what I have tried to teach you to avoid such catastrophes," Morrigan said, "But I have little time for games. I must speak again with the Empress soon. There are matters we must attend to, and I would rather know where you are while I take care of tonight's business."

"I shall do my best to keep you well satisfied, mother," Romian said with a slight bow.

"Very good," Morrigan said, "Now, let's get on with our tasks before the ground swallows us. I believe you have magic to study for a while. And scrub our chamber floors. I have no desire to come back to a dirty home."

"Yes, of course, mother," Romian said. But as she left, Romian could feel that strange chill run down his back. He once again felt as if he was being watched.

Morrigan walked down the halls of the keep of Val Royeaux with a steady pace. The Empress could not be kept waiting, and Morrigan's incident with her own some had caused some minor problems when it came to the prospect of time. Time was all she had. Or, at least, time is what she thought she had. Romian could wait as far as the truth went, but she had no real obligation to speack the truth to her son. As least no obligation yet, at any rate. And yet, Morrigan knew that she would eventually have to tell her son about her part in the Fifth Blight. And Romian's part in the Fifth Blight, for that matter. Nothing seemed like it could be escaped from right now. It was true when Silwen found her, it was true when Flemeth came back from the dead, and it was certainly true now. Morrigan could not escape the truth. She could never escape the truth. And yet, it was imperative that Morrigan leave that life behind. Her son would eventually become someone to be both respected and feared, but it wasn't time for her to unleash her greatest achievement. Old god or none inside of Romian, he was still her child, and she would fight fiercely to protect him from harm.

As Morrigan passed the lightly armored guards and entered the Empress' chamber, she felt something tug at her, though she did not know what it was. It felt cold in that room. Terribly cold. However, Morrigan shook her head. Celene turned around when she heard Morrigan walk in and smiled at lovely arcane advisor.

"Morrigan, welcome!" Celene greeted happily, "I have excellent news. The civil war is nearly at an end. We have the Grand Duke on the run, and his armies shall be utterly destroyed when we catch up to him. Gaspard was a fool for believing he could challenge and defeat me!"

"That is excellent news," Morrigan responded, "After six horrible years of war, we are finally about to win. Tell me, Your Highness, what do you plan on doing when you have Gaspard?"

"I will torture him as long as I can," Celene said darkly, "And before I give him permission to die, I want him to look me in the eyes and tell me why. And then, I will let him die."

"A well thought out move, Your Highness," Morrigan said, "If it is you desire, I can help keep him alive long enough to prolong the pain."

"I am joyed by your offer, Morrigan," Celene said, "but I want to do it myself. He deserves the hand of the family that gave his family the power they have right now."

"As you wish, Your Highness," Morrigan said with a bow, "Is there anything else you would have of me?"

"You have been a faithful servant, Morrigan," Celene said with a smile, "All I ask is that you stay here, with me, guiding me in all that I do. But if I do need your magic for Gaspad, I shall indeed call you. Perhaps I shall keep him alive just long enough that he will know that he has failed."

"As you command, Your Highness," Morrigan said with a bow.

After Morrigan bowed to the Empress two things happened simultaneously. The first was the sound of whistle that was much a kin to the call of a blue bird. The second was that Celene's face went pale and cold as a crossbow bolt pierced her heart. Suddenly, Morrigan saw several men leap from the shadows of Celene's chamber, all with hooded and with daggers. Morrigan screamed for the guards and was about to cast a spell to ward off the attackers but she felt cold steel slip through her back. As she fell to the ground in utter pain and looked up, she saw the face of one the guards that was posted outside of the Celene's chamber. What she last saw was the lifeless eyes of Celene as Morrigan began to feel her physical strength disappearing and the dagger driven deeper into her back.

"Romian," she whispered with the last of her strength, and everything went black.

Romian lay fast asleep as his mother breathed her last, his dreams filled with blood and horror. He saw the deaths of many in is horrible slumber, each death more painful than the last. He wanted to scream, but then the dream changed as he felt a tight grip on his shoulders. Romian looked up and he saw the same old man he saw in the streets of Val Royeaux.

"_Wake up!"_ the old man cried, _"You must wake up now! Death is coming for you, and it has already taken your mother and the Empress of Orlais. Get up, you fool. Fly!"_

Romian woke up with a start and heard the bells of Val Royeaux sounding heavily across the city. The next thing he heard was a cry of battle outside his doors. As he got out of his bed, two heavily armored men broke into the chamber.

"There he is!" one of the men shouted, "Kill 'im!"

As the two lunged at Romian he shouted an incantation and the two men turned into stone. He grabbed his staff, backpack, robes, and a rope to escape out the window. In the distance, Romian saw an army outside of the city walls, hurtling flaming boulders at the city walls. Val Royeaux was going to fall. And if what the old man said was true, that meant his mother was already very dead. Romian escaped out the window and quickly made for the courtyard sewers. If there were any faster way out of Val Royeaux, it would have been through the city's sewers. As he ran toward the sewer entrance, he saw another man who tried to run him through with his sword. But Romian summoned forth his strength and struck the man with a fireball. Romian grabbed the man's short sword before he made his way to the sewers. They were long and damp, but Romian explored them a few times, so he knew exactly where to go. When he made it safely out of the sewers, Romian took one last look back at Val Royeaux. The city was buring. Gaspard won. Orlais had fallen. And Romian fled east, to Fereldan.

**Hey, everyone! Thank you so much for reading. Please review. I love your feedback. Have a nice day!**


	4. Chapter 3

Dragon Age: War of Gods

**Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay on this chapter. I was on vacation, returned to college, and now I have to deal with the beauty of school! Not to mention that this story is just short of 6000 words, or 19 pages, as it were. Anyway, this chapter kind of got away from me. I didn't expect it to be so long and filled with so much content. It makes me glad I was able to make so much content for you guys. Anyway, I am thankful for your reviews! Hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

Chapter 3

The Prince of Fereldan and a Shadow in the North

Rain came down gently while Alistair and Eldasar rode towards Denerim. There were a few rumbles of thunder here and there, but Eldasar urged the company to press forward as he was eager to venture forward. Alistair couldn't help but smile at his son's sense of adventure. The boy reminded him of Silwen, and Silwen was not one to rest when there was still traveling to do. Of course, that was during a different time. The world was darker then, and evil was threatening all things. But when Alistair saw Eldasar, he saw the light and hope that Silwen brought to him, and this comforted him more than he could describe.

Yet, though the King of Ferelden was filled with joy for his son, he was also troubled by Eldasar's silence during the ride back to Denerim. For several days, the boy seemed to have a long and far look. Thought ever gnawed Eldasar, and that thought was always about the Watcher of the gates to the Black City. At times Alistair would ask Eldasar of his thoughts, but Eldasar would always shake his head and tell his father that he was fine. Alistair knew better than that. It was the same look he had after the ending of the Fifth Blight. The same look he had when he thought about that night with Morrigan. It haunted Alistair. Even though it was what saved both he and Silwen, he couldn't get over the thought. He thought of Morrigan, just as Silwen thought of Morrigan. But she was gone, and there was nothing either he or Silwen could do about it.

Yet Alistair heard rumors of a raven-haired beauty in the West served as the arcane advisor for Empress Celene of Orlais, and suspicions were raised, but would not dare to confront Orlais about the matter. If Morrigan wanted to attack Fereldan, she would have done it by now, but it was about the boy that Silwen told Alistair of that he was wary of. That child had a claim to the throne, but Morrigan swore that he would never know of his true blood. Alistair could only hope that she made good on her promise. But now was not the time to think of Morrigan and her child. Now was the time to focus of getting Eldasar safely home. It was his promise to Silwen that their only child would always remain safe as long as they could protect him. And Alistair planned on guarding Eldasar to his greatest capabilities.

"How much further until we reach Denerim," Eldasar asked with a smile.

"I would guess at least three more hours," Alistair replied, "Excited, aren't we?"

"I haven't been home for a very long time," Eldasar said, "I couldn't begin to describe how much I have wished for this day."

"It will be good to have you home, my son," Alistair said gently.

Eldasar look over to his father and smiled as they rode forward. The company did not stop the rest of the ride. The rain stopped before they reached Denerim, and the sun shone clearly before them as Denerim appeared in the distance. With the strong alliance built between the Dwarves of Orzammar and the Men of Fereldan, the Dwarves had helped in the rebuilding of the great city. It was as it has always been, the jewel of Fereldan, and even more so with the influence of the Dwarves. Even as the company approached the gates of Denerim the city sounded the approach of its king and its prince. A cry went up from the city like a shout of victory after a great battle for the return of the blood of Theirin, and Eldasar knew he was at last home. But in his heart, he felt that his home would never be complete without his mother. Though he was sure he sure that he would love Leliana as a stepmother, it wouldn't be the same.

The company pressed forward through the streets, with hails and bows given from the people right and left. Eldasar was bowed to from time to time in the Circle, but not like this. It was new to him. There was beauty here, a different beauty from the Circle, and Eldasar enjoyed it. He enjoyed the fresh air that could be enjoyed. However, he was also used seeing equality. Yes, there was rank within the Circle, but everyone was generally treated the same. Here there were more differences. Yes, the people were treated with kindness and respect, but class was always there as well. Yet, Eldasar that people great and small had a minor distrust for him since he was mage, even though he was their prince. The Chantry was certainly against his claim to the throne of Fereldan, even though Leliana, who was a part of the Chantry, clearly supported his right to the throne.

They came swiftly to the Palace of Denerim, its white towers rose high and beautifully into the sky. Upon seeing them, Eldasar gave a slight sigh of relief. He was now home, with his father. Yet, he also wanted to adventure. He wanted to command armies in his father's name and bring honor to his homeland, much like his mother and father did. He wanted to make his father, his mother, and his people proud. But now, Eldasar would have to learn. He knew that better than anyone. And now began the part of lessons he only got a taste of while he was at the Circle. In order to become a good king, he must first be a good prince.

At the steps of the palace stood a tall, beautiful woman with red hair. Next to her stood identical twin girls who were about half the woman's height and a young boy who was just a little shorter than the twins. As Alistair rode in after Eldasar, the people in the courtyard all bowed before the King of Fereldan. Alistair raised his hand, and they rose. Eldasar knew his father had no desire for the throne, but Eldasar also believed that Alistair's lack of desire made him a better king. His father was by no means power crazy, and he was a fair and righteous judge. The people loved him, and the realm prospered under his rule. When the people rose, Alistair dismounted his horse and walked over to the woman and children.

"My queen," Alistair said with a smile and slight bow.

"My king," Leliana returned with the same smile and bow before she kissed him.

Eldasar watched the encounter with a sad smile. But Leliana made Alistair happy, and Eldasar guessed that's all that mattered. What happened to his mother, he may never know, but if she was by the Maker's side, he could only pray that she was watching and be proud of him. But if the Maker had turned his back on the world, why would the Maker make it so his mother could watch, assuming she was truly dead? But if the Maker does not care to watch humanity, then why does He send the Watcher to do it? He thought back to his time in the Fade and to what the Watcher told him. There are so many who claim to be faithful to the Maker. If the Maker has not forsaken the world because of the faithful, then why wouldn't the Maker directly intervene in the affairs of Men?

Eldasar thought it would be best to discuss such things with Leliana some time, but after she and his father spent some time together. He figured it would be a good idea to explore Denerim for a while, if he could. Of course, he was a man, now. He could go where he pleased. However, Eldasar had a feeling that he would need to study politics very soon again. That and war. He was much more interested in war, but those of the Templars would laugh at him when he said that.

"_Once you have a taste of war, you will wish it never existed,"_ the Templars would say, and Eldasar had a feeling that they were right.

"Eldasar," Alistair happily called to his son, "come over here. I would like to formally introduce you to your stepmother, Leliana."

"It is a pleasure, Eldasar," Leliana said in her beautiful Orlesian accent, "I have looked forward to meeting you for a very long time. I knew your mother, and, well, I loved her too. Much like Alistair loved her. I know I can never truly replace her as your mother or even Alistair's queen, but I will always try to make you feel loved and accepted with me. I love to be friends with you, if you will give me the chance. And maybe one day I can call you 'son' as well."

"The pleasure is mine, my queen," Eldasar said with a bow and kissed her hand, "I know you loved my mother, from what my father told me in his letters, and I know that you loved my father dearly too. I can't thank you enough for being there for him when I couldn't. And I would be honored to be a member of your family, as you are already a member of mine."

Leliana smiled at Eldasar and brought him into a gentle hug. Eldasar returned the hug and smile and Eldasar knew he was already accepted by the woman that was loved by both of his parents.

"Let me introduce you to the rest of the family," Leliana said cheerfully, "These are your sisters and brother. Katlynn, Annabeth, and Richard."

They were all beautiful children, and the three of them looked more like Alistair than Eldasar did, but Eldasar did not think long on such things. He smiled, and greeted the children of Alistair and Leliana. They were kind to him, at least, and that was a treasure to Eldasar's heart. But in the back of his mind, Eldasar felt like an outsider. He was no bastard, but he also knew that he would be no welcome king due to his time in the Circle.

"_Comparable to the Archons of Tevinter,"_ the Chantry said, but Eldasar was determined to prove them wrong. He was resolved to be a good king and to be devout to the teachings of the Maker. If only he had the knowledge and wisdom to do so. He was trained as a mage, a warrior, and even as a diplomat, but never as a prince. It was something the boy had to learn, and quickly.

"It is a pleasure to meet you and my brothers and sisters, my queen," Eldsar replied to Leliana with a smile and a slight bow.

"Please, you do not have to be so formal with me," Leliana said with a melodious laugh, "If it pleases you, you may call me by name. Or mother if you wish it, though I know I am not worthy of the title."

"Stepmother would be fine," Eldasar said, "Not to remind you, but to let you know that I do embrace you as a member of the family."

Leliana smiled at Eldasar and reached out of hold Alistair's hand. The family slowly entered back into the place, and the sound of birds chirping was in the air as the great doors opened. Leliana was quite talkative to Eldasar about his time within the Circle of Magi and told him stories of her time with his mother. She spoke about her own journey to the Circle Tower with Silwen and the evil that once cursed the place. The darkest tale was of Uldred and his joining with the Pride Demon that she and Silwen fought to save the Tower. Eldasar listened with gladness in his heart, for every story he heard from his father and Leliana brought him closer to his mother in spirit. For that, at least, he was thankful.

"I must ask you, Eldasar," Leliana said, "What was your time in the Fade like? Your mother spoke of her Harrowing in some small detail to me, but it was really to Alistair that she spoke of it. It was one of her many defining moments. She was a strong woman, and a dear friend."

"I almost died there," Eldasar said quietly, "Or, I should have died there. The demon I faced was a spirit of terror, and it lived up to its title."

"What happened?" Leliana asked curiously.

"I was saved," Eldasar said.

"Saved?" Leliana asked, "By what? Another spirit."

"I don't know," Eldasar said, "He didn't seem like any spirit I know of. He told me not to speak of that meeting. All I know for sure was that he was powerful. Very powerful."

"That is odd," Leliana said, "But thank the Maker you are alive!"

"Does the Maker ever intervene?" Eldasar asked suddenly.

"Well, the Chantry doesn't think so," Leliana explained, "The Chantry claims that the Maker has left all of creation, and will only deal with His children should they ever come to Him in death. The Chantry also thinks that the Maker will only return to His creation when His Chant of Light has been spread throughout all the world."

"And what do you think?" Eldasar asked.

"I don't think the Maker has abandoned His creation as the Chantry thinks," Leliana said, "I think He works in ways in ways we can't understand. I think that He is at work in the world even now, though the world refuses to see that. Did your mother or father ever tell you why I wanted to follow them against the Darkspawn so much?"

"A letter told me of some of my mother and father's adventures," Eldasar said, "But they never went into much detail."

"Ah, I see," Leliana said with a nod, "Well, I believe that the Maker spoke to me, through a dream and a rose bush that came back to life even though it was dead. I know that the Chantry says that the Maker only spoke to Andraste, but I have a hard time believing that an all-powerful and all-good God would simply ignore His creation. That means that the Maker isn't all-good or He isn't all-powerful. Or both. The only other option would be that the Chantry is wrong about the Maker. Of course, I would be burned at the stake for saying that."

Eldasar laughed with Leliana at her comment, but Eldasar couldn't help but think of what the Watcher had said to him. _'The world has been forsaken for the sake of the faithful,'_ the Watcher had said. How Eldasar wished he could talk to Leliana about this, but he knew he shouldn't. However, he had a feeling that Leliana was right about the Maker. Perhaps He hadn't abandoned the world. However, Eldasar knew that trying to answer questions he couldn't possibly know the answer to was worthless. The two discussed the adventures of Silwen, Lelianna, and Alistair for some time, and Eldasar always had many questions about Leliana's stories. She felt as if she were once again with Silwen, relating stories of older days and slaying the hated Darkspawn. Such questions always made her smile. However, their talks were cut short when Alistair found them.

"I need to talk to Eldasar alone," Alistair said quietly.

Leliana merely nodded and Eldasar left quickly with Alistair. The entered a smaller room that only Alistair had the key two. Inside the room were many relics, weapons and other things that seemed to have the mark of the Grey Wardens upon it. In the center of the room were two statues, one of a man and the other a woman. Alistair simply walked up to the statues and stared at them before kneeling in front of the statues in respect. When Alistair rose he saw Eldasar eyeing his father curiously.

"They are images of your mother and Duncan, my mentor," Alistair said, quickly reading Eldasar's thoughts, "It used to be that Duncan's statue only graced this room. When your mother vanished I had a statue of her made as well. They are reminders of the importance of the Grey Wardens. Reminders that the kings of Fereldan turn away this ancient and noble order. The Grey Wardens saved this country. Your mother saved this country. I want to honor her throughout the ages of the world. In this room are some of your mother's most valued possessions, as well the only possessions that we could retrieve from Duncan. In this room is a special sword that your mother once owned. Its name is Starfang. The sword was made from star metal that your mother and I found during our adventures. The man who forged this sword claimed that the world has never seen its like, and will never see its like again. She would have wanted you to have it. One day, I hope that I can give you may father's blade as well. But it is not yet that day. Wear Starfang proudly, and know that your mother and I, as well as all the people of Fereldan, are proud of you."

Alistair picked up the grey-blue longsword and handed it to Eldasar. The blade glowed blue and Eldasar felt its power at even the smallest touch. It had known the hand of the Arcane Warrior, and its own magic was powerful. For a moment, Eldasar felt as if the sword had a life of its own, connected to the Fade in a strange way through his mother. The blade glowed with a faint blue light as Eldasar studied the sword. Alistair smile and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Fereldan will have need of you someday," Alistair said, "but today I need my son. For too long we have been apart. I see so much of your mother in you. Her bravery, her determination. You have her spirit, no doubt. I know in my heart that you will be what Fereldan will need. You will be a good king, and I will try to help you in every way I can to ensure you become the king you hope to be."

"What if I fail?" Eldasar asked.

"Your mother and I asked ourselves the same question before we fought the Archdemon," Alistair said grimly, "But in the we decided that we would not give up without a fight. If we had failed, we would have made sure we took as many Darkspawn with us. Your mother's mentor, Wynne, told her that the only way to be a good leader is to use your power in a way that will benefit those who follow you. Every action you make will affect those you follow you. Power, true power, is as constraining as it useful. You just need to know when to use it, when to show justice and mercy. Listen to those around you and take every piece of counsel you can get. Let those around you know you, and you them. Friends are important, for ruling is lonely and often filled with grief."

"I think I understand," Eldasar said in thought with a nod.

Alistair smiled again at his son and hugged him. He knew well that Eldasar would do well when the time came. But Alistair had to wonder how long it would be before Eldasar took his place as the king of Fereldan. He wanted to be there for his son for a long time to come.

"So I have to ask," Alistair said, "How long until this Templar arrives in Denerim? I thought the Chantry made it so that the Templars and Mages would leave the Circle together the day the Mage left."

"The Circle informed me that my companion would be at the Chantry upon my arrival," Eldasar laughed, "I suppose I should go pick up my new friend."

"I think that I'll join you," Alistair said, "It has been a while since I heard the Chantry scream at me about taking on a Circle Mage as my heir."

"This should be very interesting, then," Eldasar said with a smile.

The walk to the Chantry didn't take very long, as the people were mainly off at the Market District during the afternoon. People busily buzzed around the district, searching for food and clothes. Some searched for bows and arrows, preparing for what would eventually be a long and hard winter. The winters were always hard in Fereldan, but the people were strong and resilient. Fereldan knew winter the best. The only people that knew winter better were the Chasind, those of Korcari Wilds. Who knew how much further south those lands stretched, for lands were unmapped and untamed. But Fereldan had some peace with the Chasind, even if it was an uneasy peace. However, the Chasind did have some in Denerim that would establish trade. Though Fereldan did have much more to offer, the Chasind had medicines that Fereldan did not have, and those medicines were much needed at times.

Denerim flourished, though it still felt the damage of the Darkspawn invasion seventeen years ago. It even seemed more beautiful to Alistair despite the past invasion. Of course, the true jewel that was in the city was lost to him. Alistair loved Leliana, it was true, but he loved Silwen more. It was a wound Alistair could never fully heal, not matter how much he tried. Alistair could never fully understand why she left, but ultimately he knew that she left because she was a Grey Warden, just as he was. They both sensed things, and it was what they sensed that caused Silwen to disappear. Alistair never told anyone about that dark night, and he did not plan on it. All he knew was that he offered to go instead of her, but she refused, claiming that only he could teach Eldasar to be a good king. How he wanted to tell Eldasar what they both saw in that darkness, though.

His nightmares were always filled with it. A great beast, bathed in blood and clothed shadow and flame. All Alistair could see clearly were its molten red-yellow eyes. It spoke like that of the archdemons, but it did not feel like an archdemon. Or perhaps it was, and Alistair did not recognize it. But how could that be possible? An even more horrific thought was what if an archdemon could return from the dead? But seemed even less possible, for the essence of an archdemon was destroyed along with the soul of the Grey Warden. This was true of all but one archdemon, but he could not sense the presence of the archdemon that was absorbed by Morrigan's child. He could see in his dreams the sleeping Old Gods, though, and for long he feared that the beast was speaking to the last two Old Gods. And the Old Gods answered. But weather the answer was in a command or the reply to a command Alistair did not know. All he knew is that it shook him and Silwen to their very cores.

For seven years long years Alistair had those nightmares, and for seven years they had gotten worse and worse. Whether or not that meant his time was near, though, he did not know. But he always figured that the poison of the taint would fuel nightmares of death and destruction by Darkspawn, not a warning of things yet to come, if they came at all. And if he didn't dream about what he saw in the darkness, he dreamed about the boy he would assume was Morrigan's son. However, in the light of the Chantry, Alistair always felt the horror in the back of his mind flee from him. But it would return at night. It always did.

"Everything okay?" Eldasar asked, taking notice of his father's long, silent thought.

"Hm?" Alistair grunted, turning his attention to his son, "Sorry. I was just in thought about your mother."

"I miss her too," Eldasar said quietly, "We will find her one day."

"I hope so," Alistair said with a sad smile.

The Chantry stood before them, tall and beautiful as they came to its walls. The windows were stained with the colors of red, pink, and yellow. At the top of the Chantry was a statue of Andraste, holding a flame in her hand. Alistair smiled as he thought back to the statue of Andraste that held a living flame at the Temple of the Urn. That seemed so long ago, and just like yesterday simultaneously. The Temple stood proudly as it once had in the Frostback Mountains, the Chantry made quick work of cleaning and repairing the old place, and when word spread that the Urn of Sacred Ashes had been found at last, many pilgrims traveled to the Temple to behold the wonder of the Urn. The Guardian of the Urn still kept ever watchful over the Urn, slaying any whom he deemed to be unworthy of seeing the ashes of Andraste. Alistair hated having to send word to the families of those who were slain at the Temple, but the Guardian had to protect Andraste. Well, in truth, it was the Chantry's job to inform the families, but Alistair had a duty to protect those of his lands. So many duties, but Alistair kept them all. The people thought him a true and just king, ruling with kindness and honor. He still couldn't get used to the fact that he was an honored man throughout Fereldan. A hero in his own right. Though, the true hero of Fereldan was Queen Silwen. He hoped that Eldasar would find the kind of love he found at such a young age. A love that would last forever. But that was in the Maker's hands.

In front of the Chantry was a blooming garden of roses that Leliana had ordered to be made in honor of the Maker's vision that was given to her. The Chantry deemed such a vision heretical, but they allowed the garden because they agreed with Leliana's theology that the Maker will always preserve love and beauty in the world. Leliana's Garden became a great source of faith for those who had suffered the worst of the Blight. From the Garden, a person would take a single rose to his house, it was said that the rose would bloom there, the land that was owned by the keeper of the rose would flourish and grow strong under the care of the Maker. Though the Chantry would decry such myths as heresy, it gave the people hope. Alistair looked at the Garden with respect for Leliana's reverence to the Maker. She was a good wife, and an excellent mother and friend. Standing near the Garden was a young woman in a fine, silver armor with the insignia of the Templars upon it. Alistair couldn't remember many women being a part of the Order, but wasn't a great surprise that a she could be in the Order. She had long, brownish-red hair and green eyes that were akin to the green leaves of the Brecilian Forest. She was beautiful, to say the least, and Alistair had the distinct notion that she was waiting on his son to arrive.

"_I swear, my family has all the luck with beautiful women,"_ Alistair thought, jokingly.

The girl smiled when she saw Eldasar and Alistair approach the Chantry. She was probably not much older than Eldasar was, if not the same age. She carried a long sword at her side and a shield, with the usual Templar insignia, on her back. She wore no helmet, however, and her armor was very small to go with how short she was. But she looked fierce, as well as lovely. Alistair would hate to go against her in a dark alley were he a younger man, though he had a feeling that she was still rather inexperienced. Alistair would bet that she had never seen a real battle. A green child, but a confident one. She knelt and bowed before Alistair and Eldasar. Maker's breath he hated when people did that!

"Your Majesties," She said respectably, "I welcome you to the Denerim Cathedral. I am at your command."

"Rise," Alistair smiled, "Maker's blessings upon you, my lady. I personally welcome you to Denerim itself. I guess you are the young Templar to watch over my son?"

"I am, indeed, your majesty" she laughs after she rises, "My name is Abigail Rosland. I hail from Dragon's Peak and joined the Chantry under the Templar order six years ago."

Alistair recalled his own training as he looked at the girl. She could dispel magic, but so could Eldasar. The boy had studied vigorously through the four schools of magic and the notes his mother left him on Morrigan's magic, Wynne's magic, and the strange lore of the Arcane Warrior. The Arcane Warrior was the magic Eldasar treasured most from his mother as carefully guarded lore. The copies of Silwen's books of magic given to the Circle of Magi were some of the most highly prized possessions the mages had in their famed library. Only Eldasar had the originals. Eldasar was strong with magic, but Alistair had a feeling his mother would claim him to be stronger than she was. Alistair smiled. The boy was definitely his mother's son, utterly devoted and determined.

"Charmed," the young prince greeted, kissing the girl's hand in a respectful manner, "I am Eldasar, but I suppose you already knew that. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Abigail blushed slightly and returned her hand to her. Alistair couldn't help but chuckle to himself. He was definitely Maric's grandson. The two talked, getting to know each other a little while Alistair thought about how quickly his romance with Silwen started. He smiled to himself. Though, of course, she wasn't around forever. Too quickly had they come together, and too quickly were they torn apart by a simple feeling. They darkness they felt once again entered Alistair's mind. He shuddered. Maker help them all if his and Silwen's nightmares were correct, if there was a shadow in the dark that was coming for Thedas.

"We should probably head back to the palace," Alistair said, looking up at the coming sunset, "Wouldn't want to miss dinner."

Eldasar and Abigail nodded and the three of them headed back to the palace. The cool of the day started to grow colder. Fereldan winters were always harsh, and it always had cold nights. After they got back to the palace, Alistair had one of his servants show Abigail to her quarters. Alistair moved slowly to his own room in thought after he bid his son goodnight. Soon, he entered his chambers and saw Leliana sleeping soundly. He smiled as he saw her peaceful form, but as he got undressed and approached the bed, he saw a raven at his window. He looked surprised the bird that cried out and open the window… from the outside. The black raven morphed into a yellow eyed elderly woman once it landed gracefully on the floor. An elderly woman Alistair recognized all too well.

"Flemeth?" Alistair asked in shock and went for his sword.

Flemeth raised a hand and the sword flew away from Alistair's grasp. She smiled mischievously.

"Now, is that really the way for someone to treat an old woman and a guest?" She laughed coldly, "One would think a king, of all people, would understand the meaning of courtesy."

"I remember that you are a lot more than a simple old lady," Alistair growled warily.

"Very true," Flemeth laughed, "And in truth, I am stronger now than I was. The item which contained my spirit when your Silwen cut me down was made by a slightly younger Flemeth. And so, I have her body. However, I am not here to speak of my wild tales. The moon is not out for such revelries. Dark talk for dark times, as the saying goes. I bring you word or Orlais: Morrigan is dead, along with its Empress. The rebels won."

Alistair's eyes widened. Never had he thought that Empress Celene would fail to cast down Grand Duke Gaspard, especially since Celene was so close to destroying Gaspard's last castle.

"B-but how?" Alistair asked.

"Celene was betrayed," Flemeth explained, "By whom, I do not know, but she and Morrigan were assassinated within the Empress' own chambers. Val Royeaux was sacked the laid siege to and sacked the same night. This enemy of hers took up with the Tevinter Imperium, as I saw many of the banners of the old empire along with the rebel banners. Your Chantry capital has likely been destroyed."

Alistair looked at Flemeth. The old woman was cunning, manipulative, and powerful, but she was also wise. She aided those she felt had the will to change the world for some kind of good, even if it wasn't ultimately the Maker's good. Alistair did not trust Flemeth, he had no reason to trust her, but he did have reason to listen to her wisdom. Silwen was wise enough to heed it, and now Alistair had to.

"What is it that you want, Flemeth?" Alistair asked.

"What do I want?" Flemeth responded, "I want was is mine by right. Did Morrigan think I would simply let death take her from me? No, for she lives, yet no longer in physical form. The ring…. I feel it here even now. Her life force, I bound to it. And it is more powerful now than I had hoped, for she has felt the energies of the Old Gods flow through her. I shall weep for devouring such a beautiful soul, but she shall give me eternal youth and beauty."

Alistair looked horrified but he drew his sword. The Maric's blade glowed in a pale gold light, the lyrium runes of fire and ice still made it lent great power to the blade, and it responded coldly to Flemeth's mysterious stare.

"I will kill you before you lay hands on my son," Alistair growled.

"And how do you hope to slay me, your majesty?" Flemeth laughed darkly, "I have shown you that I am able to escape death, and I can do it again if I wished. But no, I shall not lay a hand on your son. For while I wish to acquire the ring again, there is power that guards your son that I cannot hope to defeat. Your son could kill me before I could even raise a hand to strike him, but that does not mean he can escape death. He is simply protected from magic and demons, which is a strange thing, for only the Old Gods had such powers. But… this strength feels older than the Old Gods…."

"What strength is this that could defend against magic and demons?" Alistair asked.

"I know not," Flemeth said, "but that does not mean he can't be overwhelmed by such things…. Know this there is a darkness that is coming after your son, and that darkness is what you and your Grey Warden saw…. The Old Gods stir in their sleep, they are lending their powers to another. One who can lead the Darkspawn into battle… and open the gates to the City of Blood…. Be on your guard, your majesty, for there are darker things in this world than Darkspawn and dragons…."

With that, Flemeth smirked and turned into a raven and flew out the window. Alistair watched the bird fly away, a sound like laughter followed it. Alistair wished with all of his heart that what Flemeth said was not true.

**A/N: Wow that was long. Haha! Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed the chapter as much as I did. Please leave your reviews. I love feedback. :]**


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